On Outstanding Roommates
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Based on this tumblr prompt: "you've been sleeping at mine because your house is being renovated and we aren't even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh, "i'll go" i feel like we might as well be married."


"No, no, love," Killian, the stubborn idiot, shook his head at her and Emma didn't even bother to suppress her eye-roll. "Liam said I can stay with him and-"

"Liam lives out of town, you doofus. Do you even realize what a bitch of a commute you will be getting yourself into? Come on!"

"Emma, I don't want to bother you and Henry," he sighed, scratching his ear self-consciously.

"Henry is 10 months old, Killian. He's not even going to realize you're there."

"Oi! I'm not easy to miss. As you well know, Swan."

He actually wiggled his eyebrows at her. The man was really testing her desire to save his ass.

"Just tell Liam you're not going to bother him and Elsa, yeah?"

"I'm going to bother _you_ instead," he stated flatly, giving her a look.

Emma moved closer to her friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, babe, that won't be a new development."

/

"I come bearing pizza!"

Emma poked her head from the kitchen to see Killian stroll in with a big pizza box in hand and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, good. I was just staring at my empty fridge, wondering what I was going to feed you."

"You wound me, Swan! I'm not going to take advantage of your hospitality to such an extent," exclaimed Killian, free hand flying to his heart.

Emma lifted an unimpressed brow.

"I remember a certain Halloween party after which I had a certain pirate passed out on my couch. A certain pirate that pillaged my fridge the next morning and ate the last of my yogurt."

"That," said the brunet, pointing a finger at her. "Was me taking my impersonation seriously."

"The next morning?"

"It's hard to shake off such a haunting performance, love."

Emma rolled her eyes. She had had that argument one too many times.

"Whatever. Is that all your luggage?"

Killian grinned a bit sheepishly.

"I might have gotten annoyed with the mess at my place and just grabbed a couple of shirts and some socks," he shrugged, non-pulsed. "I'll go back tomorrow to take the rest. Won't need much. I should be out of your hair in a month or so."

"Killian, it's fine."

Emma made a point of keeping eye-contact until he smiled at her and nodded. Good.

And then Henry started babbling from his playing cot – immediately and completely stealing Killian's attention. He started for the baby before veering off to set the pizza on the coffee table.

"A beer?"

"Sure, lass."

Emma was about to head back into the kitchen when she caught sight of the way Killian's eyes were flickering between her baby and the pizza box.

"Don't you even think about it, Jones," she said, pointing a threatening finger at him.

"He's almost a year old, love."

"Killian," she said, the warning loud and clear.

"Fine, fine," he raised his hands in a show of surrender.

Emma gave her new roommate a long look, knowing him this was far from over. And since when did he get a say in what her son ate?

She had just left the room when Killian's fake whisper drifted back to her.

"Don't worry, lad, I'll wear her down for you."

"Killian!"

This was going to be an interesting month.

/

Killian Jones was a gift from God.

If you had told her that a week ago, Emma would have rolled her eyes and snorted in disbelief. No, scratch that. She couldn't even imagine hearing that from anyone but Killian's own mouth.

That was before she started living with the idiot.

/

It started the very first night he stayed over.

Emma woke up around 3am, frowning at not having been woken earlier and ready to not look a gifted horse in the mouth and go back to sleep, when she heard the humming from the baby monitor. Panic is a logical reaction when you hear somebody humming in your baby's room in the middle of the night. She was already wrenching her door open when her brain caught up with her body.

Killian.

Curiosity replacing panic, she snuck into Henry's room as quietly as possible. She had an idea or two about what she might find there. She thought she was prepared.

She wasn't. Not for the sight of a bare-chested Killian, rocking her baby back and forth and humming a lullaby beneath his breath, his hair a mess and his eyes half-open and his voice deep and rough with sleep.

Emma bit her lip, debating the merits of alerting him to her presence while her eyes were all misty and her throat obstructed by a sizable lump.

She snuck back into bed, taking the baby monitor with her and falling asleep with it pressed to her ear.

/

Thanks to one Mary Margaret Nolan, also known as the best boss a person can have, Emma Swan worked from home. Writing articles, preparing questionnaires and doing general research on _The Fairest Mag_ 's theme of the month.

In theory, this was great – allowing her to look after Henry and keep her job and her very needed paycheck. In practice, she constantly multitasked doing laundry, rocking a baby to sleep and reading about how to make birdhouses. In practice, she was glued to her computer every second her boy spent sleeping, went to bed at ungodly hours, woke up in the middle of the night and got up at an even more ungodly hour to struggle with 3-page articles on 4 hours of sleep.

Needless to say that Henry was well-fed but the same could not be said about Emma.

And if there was one thing she had found out in the last week it was that Killian Jones liked his food. A lot.

Emma probably had more homemade meals in the last week than she had in the two months that came before it.

"Red or white?"

"Huh?"

"Wine, Swan."

"Oh. I don't-"

"I'm making lasagna."

"Really?!" she may have blushed at the tone of her own voice, coughing a little and trying to fake a more unaffected attitude. "I mean, cool."

Nice save. She could practically hear his grin over the phone.

"Oh, come now, Swan. I know you love my lasagna."

Emma rolled her eyes. Well, _duh_.

Everybody loved Killian's lasagna. It was one of the only reasons they occasionally ate at his place instead of at David and MM's fairytale-like house with its wide porch, soft, cream-coloured carpets and huge, plush pillows scattered everywhere.

(It went without saying that they never ate at Emma's.)

"Red sounds like the way to go," she replied to his earlier question. "Do you need me to get anything started?"

"Nah, don't worry. I'll be home in 20 minutes."

"No, really, I can-"

"Swan. Finish your piece on those new kindergartens. You were up till 2am last night."

She bit her tongue so she wouldn't tell him that knowing that meant he hadn't gone to bed any earlier.

Emma didn't really know what it felt like to have somebody taking care of you. But she was staring to get an idea.

/

"Hey!" Emma called, rushing through the door only to be greeted with the sight of her baby boy sitting on the carpet between Killian's long legs, gaze fixed on the talking mouse on the TV screen and one hand wrapped firmly around one of the brunet's fingers.

"Hello, love. Did everything go alright?"

Emma swallowed, shaking her head a bit, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat and sedate the little butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and focused on Killian's smiling face.

"Yeah. Yeah, Mary Margaret felt really bad about having to call me into the office at all. And I'm sorry I had to drag you out of work so early."

Killian waved his hand, dismissing her apology.

"It was no problem. Really you should make better use of me while I have no new project on my board."

Emma had to try incredibly hard to keep her face from betraying the thoughts that jumped to the forefront of her mind at that. Thoughts that were _always_ lurking in the background and just waiting for the most inopportune moment to make a nuisance of themselves. Thoughts that were much more suitable for steamy showers and late, cold nights.

Emma would be lying through her teeth, if she said that she hadn't wanted to use Killian Jones in certain ways from the moment she met him at David and MM's house warming party. Unfortunately, she very much doubted that gorgeous and successful young Irishmen went for lonely, grumpy, 6-months-pregnant girls. Or single moms that barely found time to eat let alone put on make-up, for that matter.

"Look at this."

Killian's excited voice drew her attention back to the two boys on the floor, looking unfairly adorable and only getting worse when Killian whispered something in Henry's ear, making the boy giggle and shake his finger up and down enthusiastically.

"Tell me you're not teaching my toddler inappropriate words," said Emma, trying to look stern instead of absolutely smitten.

"What do you take me for, Swan?" groaned Killian, looking genuinely offended. "The lad just likes my Mickey imitation."

Emma opened her mouth but he cut her off before she could even utter a sound.

"No, you cannot hear it."

She did not pout. Except that she totally did.

"What is that you're carrying, love?"

She looked down at the bag in her hand.

"Oh, yeah! I got ice-cream," she said, digging out the pint of Peanut Butter B&J's. "You know, as a 'thank you'."

"You remembered my favourite."

She was halfway ready with her retort when she realized that he was not teasing and looked genuinely surprised. Touched even. Ugh. Ridiculous. The man was absolutely ridiculous.

Emma shrugged carelessly. Killian Jones didn't need to know that she knew his favourite _everything_.

But before she could decide on what exactly to say, Killian looked down at Henry who seemed to have forgotten all about the movie and had tilted his head backwards instead, chubby hands reaching up to grab at Killian's cheeks.

"Henry, my boy, what do you say we open your eyes to the wonder that is Ben and Jerry's?"

"Killian, no!" Emma gave him a hard look, crossing her arms over her chest, bag still hanging from her arm.

She had half a mind to return the damn thing now.

"Emma, come _on_! He's almost a year old. He has to start living!"

She gave him a droll look.

"Lad, back me up here. Shouldn't your mum stop keeping you from the pleasures in life?"

"Ma, mama, mamaaaa!" Henry extended his arms towards her.

The little traitor. She just knew he'd take Killian's side.

But now that her boy was babbling excitedly at her, she felt her resolve begin to crumble. Henry was 10 months old. She knew there was nothing to worry about. Still she had read everywhere that he should have at least a few of words in his repertoire by now and should be saying them more than once or twice a week.

Hence Emma's immense delight any time she got a string of his first (and only) word.

It really wasn't her fault that she sighed dramatically and went to retrieve three spoons from the kitchen.

/

She heard the door creak slightly behind her and turned around before he could slip away unnoticed.

"Oh," Killian stood in the doorway of Henry's room, eyes a little wide and hand reaching up towards his ear when he saw she was already there.

Yeah, she had run pretty damn fast the second she heard fussing from the baby monitor to beat him to the punch (or to the baby as the case might be). How he always got there first without a monitor or anything, she would never know.

"Sorry, I thought-" he looked at his feet, smiling almost uncertainly.

Huh, that was a new look. One she found as irresistible as all the others but that was hardly the point.

"I was gonna get him," Killian said eventually, his shrug just on this side of uncomfortable.

"I know," she said simply, her expression deliberately unreadable.

He had been 'getting' Henry for the last three weeks and, against her better judgment, Emma started to get used to it, started to sleep through the whole night, started to feel like she had somebody to get her back, even when she wasn't conscious of it.

And it was both wonderful and terrifying and she just needed to do _something_.

"I'm sorry, if I overstepped. I just wanted to let you-"

"No, no," she shook her head quickly.

The last thing she wanted was him feeling like he had done something wrong.

"I really appreciate it, Killian," she smiled shakily. "I just thought… I shouldn't get out of practice, you know. For when… for when you won't be here anymore."

"Right. Of course," Killian cleared his throat and she could have sworn he looked at her holding Henry with something akin to longing in his eyes.

Or was that _her_ longing talking?

"I'll just…" he pointed his thumb in the general direction of the apartment and turned to leave and she just-

"I suck at lullabies though," she blurted in a moment of semi-panic.

"Oh," Killian turned back around, appraising her for a second before he moved forward, coming so close that their toes were almost touching. "I could teach you one."

"Yeah," Emma nodded slowly, distractedly (did he always sleep in nothing but a pair of sweats?!). "I'd like that."

She watched him glance around uncertainly, obviously wondering, if he should just stand there and start humming. Emma took a deep breath, moving towards the armchair next to Henry's cot and sitting down so that there was enough space beside her for Killian to get the hint, if he felt so inclined.

He did.

/

36 days after moving in with her and Henry Killian had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder again and was standing uncertainly in the middle of her living room.

And Emma was desperately trying to restrain herself from doing something stupid.

Something like asking him to stay a little longer. A little around the lines of forever.

"Right, I think I got everything," Killian gave the room a searching look even though they both knew he'd hardly brought anything at all. "So. I guess I'll see you around, lass. At David and MM's perhaps?"

"Yeah. Of course," Emma smiled tightly, trying not to focus on the fact that she didn't want to just 'see him around' or spent time with him and the rest of their friends.

She wanted him all the time. She wanted only him. And a lot of him. And she had thought, about 36 days and 4 hours ago, that there was no way for her to be in a worse position where Killian Jones was concerned (read: stupidly, unrealistically in love with him). And she had been so _so_ wrong.

"Bye, lad," said Killian, bending down to look Henry in the eyes. "Don't let your mum hide the ice-cream from you. Remember what we talked about. You have your rights."

Emma rolled her eyes, biting down hard on her lip when Killian planted a loud kiss on top of Henry's head.

"Okay," the brunet turned towards her, rocking on his heels a bit. "Thank you, Swan."

And then he was hugging her before she could brush off his thanks. And hell, Emma had been on her best behaviour for over a month so nobody could say anything, if she buried her nose in his shoulder and squeezed him just a little bit tighter than strictly necessary.

"You and the lad have been outstanding roommates," he grinned, pulling back a bit but keeping his arms around her waist.

"Come on," Emma lifted an eyebrow, bringing her hands around to smooth them slowly down his chest. "You and I both know you're the one who has been an 'outstanding roommate'."

"Why, Swan, I never believed I would hear you pay me a compliment."

"I pay you compliments!" she exclaimed, prompting Killian's eyebrow to jump up in return. "I… Okay, maybe not, but you don't need compliments. You are well aware of… you know."

She waved one hand between them as if to indicate his… everything.

"Aye. But it's nice to hear that I'm still capable of affecting even the most stunning of women."

Emma stared and stared and _stared_ , trying to get her mind to process his words. Trying a bit too long, if the way Killian broke eye-contact and stepped back, was any indication. He cleared his throat, his fingers working on that damn spot behind his ear.

She had wanted to kiss that spot for what felt like a lifetime.

"Well, lass, keep in mind that you have my eternal gratitude and an unfortunate, lifelong supply of favours to cash."

He was half way to the door already and Emma _still_ couldn't get her damn thoughts in order.

Much later she would label this moment as the first (and by far not the last) moment her son saved her ass.

"Killyyyyy!"

Killian stopped dead in his tracks and Emma's eyes snapped away from his back only to focus on her son with his hands outstretched towards the retreating man.

"Killy!"

The brunet turned around, his eyes wide and flickering frantically between Emma and Henry.

"Did he-"

"Killy! Killyyyyyy!"

There was an almost plaintive note in the little boy's voice and before he could overthink it Killian was dropping his bag, striding towards him and picking him up, feeling the chubby fingers dig into his dimples.

"I think he doesn't want you to go."

Killian's head snapped around at the sound of her voice. His eyes widening further at the sight of Emma's misty green eyes.

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned shakily at her and hell, he might be getting on the teary side himself.

But Emma just shook her head, a sort of determination settling over her features. His beautiful, brave girl.

"I don't want you to go either."

"About bloody time."

Henry was tucked in his left arm in the next second, his right hand tugging her closer and his lips slanting down on hers.

Emma let out a little yelp which was promptly muffled and transformed into a moan.

"I've been thinking of that-" she muttered when they pulled apart.

"Since I met you," he exhaled against her lips.

"Really?"

"Indeed," Killian leaned his forehead against hers. "You know, I'm thinking I should do some more renovating. I mean, what do I really need a billiard room for?"

"Killy!"

Emma grinned at the boy who now had one hand on Killian's shoulder, the other reaching for her hair.

"What do you think, baby? Should we let Killy stay a bit longer?"

"Mama! Mammmaaa, Killy! Killyyy!"

When their lips met again and Henry giggled happily Emma made a mental note to appreciate this while it lasted. She was sure he would be gagging at them soon enough.


End file.
